


Eternity

by JadeTigress



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: :), Angst, Drabble, M/M, Oh boy friends i hope you like angst, One Shot, do you ever think about how if black hat is immortal he'll outlive everyone?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 20:16:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11238393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeTigress/pseuds/JadeTigress
Summary: "Black Hat sat alone at his desk staring out the wide window that overlooked the neighborhood. It had become his pastime, staring as the leaves fall off the dying trees and watching as the wind sweeps them away and off into the evening sky."





	Eternity

**Author's Note:**

> Hey friends I hope you like Pain, because apparently I do and that's why I wrote this :^)

Black Hat sat alone at his desk staring out the wide window that overlooked the neighborhood. It had become his pastime, staring as the leaves fall off the dying trees and watching as the wind sweeps them away and off into the evening sky.

The sky was a beautiful blood red, reminiscent of Black Hat's old colorful shirt or the gore that used to splatter over him as he delighted in his evil pastimes. However now, it was simply an innocent color, tinted by the setting sun.

Bursts of pink and orange sprung up from the horizon, tainting the otherwise monochromatic sight. It made Black Hat frown. He got a certain sense of calm from seeing the steady red sky in the evening slowly fading to black, and the bright, cheerful colors just reminded him of the erratic and unpredictable bursts that tainted what would otherwise be consistent and predictable.

He wished he could just push those terrible colors out of the picture and settle down to watch the red sunset he found comfort in. It was like him, the last thing remaining before night finally fell and consumed the world.

He sighed, turning from the window to avoid the sight and looking back over his room. It had long since fallen to disrepair. Cobwebs hung from the corners that he'd lost the motivation to knock down years ago. The walls were faded from the light that shown into the room, and the carpet had practically disintegrated to dust.

The pictures that used to adorn the room were all gone – either faded out until the subjects turned to ghosts, or torn to shreds in fits of fury before they were forced to suffer that fate.

The last to go had been the large picture of Black Hat himself. He still remembered staring at it, overcome with self-loathing, before he'd torn his very head from his own shoulders in a fit of furious violence. It hadn't been enough, he'd yanked the whole frame down from the wall and tossed it into the yard. A match followed shortly thereafter, and he'd watched as the last remaining portrait in the house had been engulfed in flames. Watching himself burn hadn't solved anything. It hadn't even made him feel any better. Nothing did.

He'd have burned down the mansion along with it, but as he'd paced, working up the nerve to go through with destroying the whole place, he'd passed by the closed doors. He'd avoided looking at them, the locked doors that watched him, whispering memories as they begged wordlessly, but it was no use and he'd eventually settled back down into his office with a wave of melancholy.

He never thought he'd understand emotions. They were side-effects of a weak mind, things humans wallowed around in instead of focusing on business – instead of accomplishing things. Without emotions, it was easy to profit, to conquer and control – which was exactly what he'd done. Emotions were worthless and unnecessary and only held you back.

But when he ran out of things to conquer and control, when things had started to slip _out_ of his control, they'd snuck up on him, driving daggers into a heart he hadn't known he had.

He didn't know it was possible to care about something at all, let alone care that that thing was gone. It was useless to think back, but when everything was in the past, it was impossible not to.

He hadn't given a damn about the bear until it was gone, fading out like animals do. Suddenly, the cobwebs hanging around the mansion became _his_ hassle, _his_ problem – _he_ had to fix them. At first, he'd reasoned _that_ was why every time he saw a mess, or noticed that dust was settling in the kitchen or on the fireplace, it made him feel wrong. It was because he was inconvenienced and nothing more.

He'd reasoned the same thing when Flug had burst into his office, screaming, covered in blood that wasn't his and collapsed on the ground, sobbing. Again, he'd only taken it as a nuisance. When his scientist fell behind and couldn't work for weeks on end, either staring into space in a constant daze or breaking down in tears anytime Black Hat tried to snap him out of it, he'd pegged that as the source of his discomfort.

It couldn't be because the pesky girl had finally gone off and gotten herself killed, he'd never liked her in the first place. It couldn't be _guilt,_ because he'd had nothing to do with the whole situation. It had happened outside his domain, he'd had no control of it. By the time Flug had struggled to drag her cold corpse into his room, staining his clothes with gore and demanding he “fix her,” it was far too late anyway, even for him. He'd just watched distantly as the scientist had broken down once more, cowering over a cold body sobbing, becoming unresponsive. He had nothing to do with any of it, and besides, he had never felt guilt a day in his life anyway.

But when one day he found himself standing in her empty room, staring at all the furniture that would never again be used, clothes that would never again be worn, a guitar that would never again be played, he'd felt sick. He'd turned and fled, shutting the door again. The black magic trailing behind him had locked the door with an ominous click, never again to be opened.

He'd realized that when things are gone, you tend to think about them more, oddly enough. You can _miss_ them.

So he'd simply decided that his last thing wasn't allowed to ever be gone.

But despite his wishes, it hadn't been that simple.

For the first millennia, things had been good enough. It had been great, actually. Flug had simply accepted it, when one day Black Hat had announced that the scientist simply wasn't allowed to die. He hadn't asked why, or how Black Hat was going to accomplish that, just nodded solemnly and went on, still stuck in that terrible haze that Black Hat couldn't seem to lift. He hadn't questioned it when Black Hat had shared his blood, causing all of Flug's veins to run black with ichor, or when they had begun to share their bed, Black Hat desperately holding onto him through the long nights. Black Hat was content, ecstatic even, that everything had worked out, and that life was settling in just the way he wanted. So life went on, despite the disappearance of the others. It went on, and on, and on.

Black Hat, for the first time sense those pesky feelings had started, was happy. Nothing changed, everything stayed the same. It was all as it should have been, constant and eternal and _right_.

But apparently humans don't do eternal. Apparently to them, it was wrong.

Black Hat had stopped bothering to keep track of time, it wasn't necessary when nothing changed. But at some point, after some wretched set amount of time that Black Hat could do nothing to stop, something _had_ changed. It had changed _terribly._ When his doctor had come to him, sobbing, asking for it to end, for life to end, he'd never feared change more.

He'd simply listened as the one last thing he had told him how terrible life was, how he missed his friends. Sobbed about how _painful_ and _lonely_ eternity was, as though Black Hat _didn't know,_ as if he thought Black Hat didn't _care._ He'd watched in fury as his doctor had the audacity to say he _couldn't do it anymore,_ that Black Hat had to _take it back._

_Please._

He remembered because it was the sharpest memory he had, because it was the sharpest feeling he had, digging into him and tearing him apart from the inside. Stupid, terrible, crippling feelings.

Because without them, he might have been able to say no. He might have been able to say that he'd promised eternity, so he was sworn to eternity. He might have said that if eternity with him was really so painful and terrible, they'd just have to suffer it together.

But when his doctor had torn the bag from his face, staring up at him with eyes that had been stained an inky black, tendrils of dark magic leaking onto his scarred face, he'd faltered. When his doctor had looked him in the eye with those dark voids and spoken those words, he'd been given no choice but to give in.

_If you really love me, you'd let me die._

It was the only time he'd been really able to understand, to comprehend at that very moment, that that dreadful feeling in his chest that had been prying at him all those years was his heart breaking.

When he'd been left staring at the lifeless corpse of his doctor, slouched onto the floor as black magic trailed away and back up to Black Hat's out-held hand, it had been the fist and only time he'd cried.

Humans, animals, mortals, they were all so erratic and so unpredictable. Their lives were so short, like a burst of light that faded all too quickly. Like a burst of orange or pink in the fading sunset before the black of the night. Temporary, unlike eternity.

Eternity was black and cold and lonely and constant. Nothing changed, every day was the same, sitting alone at his desk and staring as the sunset back-lit the dying world outside.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed my Terrible Idea. Let me know what you think!
> 
> My tumblr is villain-ouz, you can go yell at me there :^)


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